


Point of No Return

by Lenwyn_Lavellan



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-27 11:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenwyn_Lavellan/pseuds/Lenwyn_Lavellan
Summary: When a Sylvari emerges from his Dream a recreation of another, one who was known for achieving great things yet not completing his Wyld Hunt, who is to say who he his? But he has questions for himself. Who are these voices in his head? Why does he remember a frost-blue Sylvari? And why does he feel like his own thoughts aren't even his?Caithe, on the other hand, is overjoyed to have her friend back through an unusual circumstance. But what if this Sapling isn't the one she knew before him?I am taking SERIOUS liberties with character stories and maybe even personalities here. Just remember, I am a very inexperienced writer and any/all criticism is welcomed and appreciated. Flames included because that tells me I can improve and adapt :3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fucking shoot me I'm trying man!
> 
> Pyrogonetic is an ash white Sylvari Revenant, and since the classes have no special stories or explicitly developmental qualities, I may as well make my own!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo ya.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr where I sometimes post art and ramble on about things!  
> https://masterfulmoonlighter.tumblr.com/

Darkness.

Darkness.

Cold, unfeeling emptiness on all sides.

This and less was all the young Sylvari felt all his Dream.

He didn't have a body, yet he walked.

He didn't have eyes, yet he saw.

He didn't have ears, so he heard nothing.

Every-so-often, memories flashed by in a haze, as if seen through a flame. He was hypnotized by them, as they quickly gave him a name: Pyrogonetic. The name to him meant burnt wood, with it came smells of day-old ashes and burnt sprig, and a knowledge that all Sylvari had a distinct scent and skin texture, that he wasn't exactly original, yet uncommonly seen.

Yet, there, right in front of him inexplicably, was a small pile of ash. He didn't see it appear, he didn't see it faze into existence, it wasn't there when he turned. It was just there, unbidden by logic or want.

Something drew him in, made him want to touch it as he got closer, feel it against his palms as he found out what he could from it.

He did.

The ashes latched onto him, slowly turning into skin, body, forming gently around greenwood bones, slowly spreading into a texture that came with his name, of wood ashes and an inexplicable sense of the death of flames, of pain...

Unseen memories flashed into his mind, of happy memories with soldiers, meaningless names to match with faces, all revolving around a heavy-built Sylvari. He felt love for a Sylvari woman whose name he knew carried a reverence, affection, a sense of protectiveness and camaraderie found in the most experienced of soldiers.

However, he was still without sight.

Suddenly, something sparked behind him, and his given memories told him it was a fire. For the first time, he felt a warmth spread along his back as he turned to face the flames. If he could see, he would have immediately noticed the fires were not orangey-red, but a stark, frosty blue. The same shape of the soldier seen in the ashes memories. A soldier that looked like him. He couldn't see the figure reach out a hand as if to grab his hand, but he felt it. As odd as it was, he felt the hand reach out to touch him, and, without thinking, he touched back.

As soon as he made contact with the flames, his eyes formed. Finally, he could clearly see the other, but only a glimpse. Just a glimpse was all it took, and he no longer wished to see.

Two worlds overlapped, the Mist realms of the dead and the real world of the living. 

His eyes burned.

The flesh of his eyes and the sockets themselves boiled, bubbled up and roiled. Pain wracked his body as he clenched his face, scratching harder and harder in an effort to relieve the pain, like his nails and fingertips would be enough to still the pain. Hunching over, he yelled in agony as the pain lanced up from his eyes into his brow, staying concentrated with the rest of it. He felt a viscous liquid ooze past his fingers and down the back of his hands as he pressed his palms to his eyes. He felt as more flames licked his skin, and he thrashed, turning and swiping with an arm as if that would stop the agony in any way before a cool, soothing presence graced his side, followed by strong arms and a soft whisper, saying, “This is our chance.”

Then, his dream ended.

And another started, this one with a dragon. And that beautiful Sylvari woman.

Caithe.


	2. Chapter 2

Unbeknownst to him, on the outside Sylvari watched impatiently as through the translucent skin of the pod, his legs moved as if pushing him away from something, as an ear-splitting scream of fear ricocheted about the room. Several more Sylvari turned, (a pod trashing wasn’t entirely unheard of before a new Sapling emerged into the waiting world so it was quite easy to ignore) as if trying to pinpoint the scream before the collective set looked at the pod, still thrashing and wiggling about as if in the final throes of death. They stared in awe and horror as the pod the dreamer resided in thrashed about some before splitting violently, fearing for a moment that he emerged dead when his dream ended. Several Sylvari moved underneath him, narrowly catching him before he hit the ground. 

He was tall, thin yet suitably built for what the Dream gave him. The party took a moment to adjust him in his arms. He was the colour of day-old ashes, and when Kahedins pulled his own hand away from where it was on the Sapling's arm, it was covered in the same ashes that seemed to make up the colour of his skin, yet soaked down with the juices from his pod currently sluicing down his bare body and into the fabric leaves of the Sylvari’s clothes. Kahedins spared a cursory glance to the pod, seeing that it was thoroughly battered, the soft, plush inner membrane used to house new Sylvari covered thickly with wet ashes and burn marks, and in some places covered with the same inky substance now seen to be cacked thickly around the Saplings eyes. On his head were small spines almost like a new cactus, the same ashen white as the rest of him, yet smoothed down like a Humans skin. A Night Bloom.

As the small group carried the Sapling to a small bed for when he regained consciousness, the ashes on the sapling rubbed off easily with the birthing fluids; sticking to the clothes and bodies of those nearest as persistently as a hungry mosquito. Almost as soon as the Sapling was placed down, he stirred as if trying to find the warmth again. It was only then when the Sylvari pulled away did they realise how cold he was. The Sylvari had limited contact with the dead in their small, secluded section of the grove, yet the familiarity was obvious. He felt as cold as the corpses the humans down at Lion's Arch handle daily to either burn or bury. In a way, this newly sprouted Sylvari reminded Kahedins of another, long-dead Sylvari by the name of Liberterion. His soft, round lips, the way they opened slightly in the middle, the strong yet soft jawline blending seamlessly into a thin neck, and topped off with a high brow bone and almost perfect cheekbones made Kahedins think of the Sylvari who died so far from his home.

Caithe would want to hear this as soon as she could.


	3. Chapter 3

“Truly? You are not lying to me now, Kahedins?” Caithe asked, having been cornered by a Sylvari named Linitius and asked to meet with the Pale Tree and Kahedins in the Omphalos Chamber as soon as she could. Confused with this development, she hastily made her way to find Trahearne already there and waiting for her, discussing something with Kahedins.

“No Caithe, I am telling you the full truth. You were with him in the Dream both times. He has come back somehow.” Kahedins himself looked weary, covered in ashes and soot, and soaked through with the pod fluids of a recent birth. In short, he was a mess.

Rubbing an itch at his cheek left a large smudge of ashes along the hollow of Kahedins’ cheek. Caithe immediately brought attention to it, pointing and saying, “Did he do that?” Referring to the ashes that only smudged more the longer Kahedins rubbed. 

“In a way, yes. He emerged covering in a black ooze, and when I and the group moved him to a bed, the ashes on his body rubbed off on us. I don’t know why, but when Regali tried to clean him, it’s like he was made of soot.” Kahedins said, pointing to his clothes as evidence. Suddenly, Regali herself burst in, yelling, “Kahedins, come quick! He’s woken up!” Kahedins instantly looked confused, “Then why find me? Is something wrong?” Regali took a few moments to try and compose herself, before saying, “Mayhaps. When he woke, he seemed calm enough.” She shifted her feet, taking a moment to breathe and regain her thoughts, “Then it’s as if he tried to ask us something, and before we knew it he was screaming, staring at the wall or something we couldn’t see. He tried to get away, but Analise and Lindors managed to hold him down. He was screaming about a monster or something. Lindors tried to cover his face thinking he could stop the screaming at least, but the Sapling calmed down pretty quickly after that. . .” She looked down and away, swallowing, “Mother,” she said, now referring to the Pale Tree directly, who until then stayed silent and remained mostly ignored, “I think he sees another world, things we can’t see.”

The Pale Tree nodded softly, only her breathing heard by the guards as Kahedins and Trahearne followed Regali back to the Awakening chamber, the whole time asking questions to themselves and each other, along with anyone they’ve seen exit the chamber recently.

Once they were there, it took a fair bit to actually register what they were seeing.

The ashen Sylvari was laying on the bad, sideways as one foot was propped up on Lindors’ chest as said Sylvari made a mad grab for him. The ashen Sylvari had a hand over his eyes, his other hand holding the sheets to his junk in a vain attempt to keep some shred of decency regardless of whether or not he was already seen in the nude. In one of Lindors’ hands was a swath of fabric possibly meant to dress the Sylvari until they could get appropriate armour for him, and the other was holding out a one-inch-wide band of thick, black fabric. The hand with said fabric was reaching for the Saplings face, as Lindors struggled to get past the Sapling’s feet.

Lindors himself wasn’t small by any means: Tall as a small Norn, thick of body in limb and torso, a warrior by all rights yet willing to help new Saplings once they entered the world. The Ashen Sapling, however, was the same size in height yet not at thick around the middle as Lindors but somehow able to keep him off and away just by the sheer force of his thighs.

Trahearne was the first to move, having been standing there all of three seconds, and gently crouched on the bed, reaching one hand out to the white Sapling to place lightly on his shoulder and speak in a soothing voice, “Don’t worry young one, it’s all right, you can calm down, you won’t be hurt.” Once the sapling felt Trahearne’s hand being placed on his shoulder, he calmed almost instantly.

And so, he looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOO I PROMISE SOME MORE EXPLANATION WILL COME NEXT CHAPTER! I SWEAR!
> 
> Eyyyyy follow me on Tumblr!  
> https://masterfulmoonlighter.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

Once the Sapling had taken the time to calm down and sort his racing thoughts, he got dressed, silently, reaching each time for a new garment as wordless as a rooted tree that many compared the Sylvari too. Cold and distant like a half-dead sprout in a blizzard far, far away from a warm fire. The way he moved, stiff and jerky, reminded Trahearne most of all of the undead that plagued Tyria, created by Zaitan for as to him unknown reasons. 

Seemingly unbidden, Trahearne felt the sudden urge to call this Sapling by another name, a name that wasn’t possibly his own yet matched his face far too well: Liberterion.

Once the Sylvari was almost totally done getting dressed with just a few simple armour plates and buckles, he seemed to stop for seconds at a time, turning to and from them, pausing constantly and mouthing lightly yet never speaking, as if he was talking to someone only he could hear. After five or six times of this, Caithe seemed to get the idea that he needed help in getting fully dressed and reached a hand out to help while Trahearne and Kahedins stood off to the back away from him.

Once Caithe had placed her hand on the Sapling’s shoulder, he reacted almost instantly, pulling away and taking a full step back, raising his hand in a clenched fist as if to strike her or like her actual touch hurt him.

He faltered.

He turned his head away as if listening to something, before turning his back to her and finishing up the remaining plates and buckles himself. The silence after was thick, tense, like a wrong word or poorly said quote would shatter whatever was already there.

Trahearne had spoken of a plan of his to take the Ashen Sylvari to a friend of his, to get a better idea as to who he was and what his dream was about when they were described it. 

Rather quickly, the Sylvari was completely dressed and nodded, signalling to Trahearne he was ready, and with that, they were turning away and leaving.

The walk itself was short enough, every so often the Sapling would falter in step, tripping over fairly obvious roots or rock as if he couldn’t see them, drawing the attention of Caithe and Trahearne, prompting the latter to ask, “Young One are you alright? I know the sash helps, but maybe it would be best to remove it?” The Sapling remained silent, deathly still for a full beat before, “No. It helps.” 

In a voice that was his, yet not his own.

And Caithe begun to hate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's so short, I'll try and add more to the dream and where Pyro comes from in terms of personality and why he has his powers and such. And the scent thing is a headcanon I've seen on Tumblr that Sylvari all have a distinct scent that makes then especially unique. Pyro smells like death and suffering with a hint of popcorn. The popcorn will come later.
> 
> Got any ideas? Any tips? Any knowledge on Revenants or Sylvari I don't know because I'm a scrub? Leave them all below and I'll do my best to try and incorporate it into my story!


End file.
